


You're Hard to Resist (When You're on Your Knees)

by ViciousRhythm



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousRhythm/pseuds/ViciousRhythm
Summary: Canon-compliant A/B/O oneshot wherein Rey is the alpha and Kylo is the omega (and also not afraid to ask for what he wants)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bittersnake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersnake/gifts).



> This has been a long time in coming, but I said I would do an a/b/o AU and here it is. Kylo is kind of a thirsty ho, you're welcome.

Luke hustles Rey off-planet every so often because he says he needs his solitude after so long being alone on Ahch-To, but Rey suspects it’s because he doesn’t want her to get too used to solitude herself. Being thrown into the company of strangers in close proximity out of the blue had of course been jarring, and Rey values the quiet she finds with Luke that is impossible back with the Resistance forces, but she misses human (and otherwise) interaction, truth be told. So she doesn’t fight Luke on his reasoning when he regularly shoos her off the planet and onto the vintage X-Wing Luke keeps.

Such a trip finds her a short jaunt away via hyperspace, on a planet she’s never visited before, in a cantina evenly populated with humanoids and various species both familiar and new to Rey. It’s her custom to choose a new planet at random, now that Rey is free to explore the galaxy as she wants, though Luke has cautioned her against blindly walking onto any old planet without being wary of potential First Order sympathizers. Rey has learned that lesson well enough seeing the destruction of Maz Kanata’s place. The disguise she’s wearing on this particular trip is, as usual, just enough to keep her from being recognized on sight, though any use of the Force will surely tip her hand, so she refrains from tapping into it.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t nag at her anyway. There’s something off in here, Rey can feel it like an itch she can’t reach, though there’s no obviously unsavory characters. There are the usual dodgy sort, looking to avoid authorities from any faction, but the only sink in the delicate net of the Force is near the corner of the room, at the bar. He’s dressed in the kind of clothing that implies he doesn’t want to be seen or bothered, and the feeling coming off of him makes it impossible for Rey to either fail to see or approach him.

The sick twist she can feel in the Force is almost familiar, a pull in her gut working directly opposite of her instinct to walk away from such a feeling. She’s never felt this kind of conflict in her instincts, but she’s trusted her gut for far longer than she’s trusted her Force instincts, so she moves toward him instead of away. Dressed in a massive cloak, Rey can only guess at the gender, really, but the broad shoulders imply male.

Rey approaches sideways, the same way she would a skittish animal, and not too rapidly, but his head turns toward her just slightly anyway, and she knows she’s caught. Her last few steps are quicker, settling herself onto the stool at his lefthand side, and his head turns away as though he can pretend he hasn’t seen her and Rey could pretend she hasn’t noticed.

“What are you drinking?” Rey asks, the question Poe has suggested as a good neutral opener when she’s making these sort of outings.

“Nothing.” She can tell immediately that his voice is artificially lowered, gravelly and tense, a near whisper as though he doesn’t want the small word to make much of an impression. There’s a heat under it that lodges in Rey’s skin, making her inhale unexpectedly sharp. It’s...an indefinable fascination, like finding something unexpectedly pristine in amongst forgotten wreckage. She brushes aside that nagging familiarity and instead chases the heady, nebulous desire to find out what’s under that cloak, what it is that’s tugging even more insistently at her insides.

“I was just leaving,” he says hurriedly, starting to stand and Rey can’t figure why, it’s out of character for her, but she reaches up to stop him with a hand on his arm. He freezes, crouched about to stand, while Rey freezes at the strange surge that races down her palm into her arm and goes zipping down along her spine to settle with a shiver.

“Stay,” she croaks, voice unexpectedly rough, unexpectedly authoritative. He obeys immediately, and that is when Rey gets a glimpse of his face - one she won’t be able to forget in all her life. Kylo Ren, looking haggard and somehow desperate, is under the hood of a dark cloak, hungry around the eyes like the last time she’d seen him. The scar is there as well, the one Rey has thought about before. It’s just as livid as she imagined it, despite knowing the First Order has every available medical advantage. He must have chosen not to have the skin on his face smoothed and preserved, opting to leave behind a pink scar that widens as it crosses the bridge of his large nose, skipping to the right of that full mouth by just a hairsbreadth and disappearing into the high collar of his jacket.

The most peculiar feeling resonates in Rey’s chest at the sight of his scarred face, clamoring up against the notions to fight and run and scream at him - _mine._ The scar, outside of anything else about him, calls out to some unnameable beast in her chest that shudders awake with a pleased growl. _Mine_.

“You’re - ” Rey can’t get out even half of a sentence before the look of single-minded desperation flees from his face, and Kylo Ren looks dartingly around the bar as if _he’s_ the one who has anything to fear.

“Don’t say anything,” he tells her insistently, an almost pleading tone to his voice. “I’m not here on anyone’s business but my own desire for a bit of peace.”

“And why should you get to have any peace?” Rey demands, belatedly retracting her hand from his arm and placing it instead under her poncho, at the hilt of her borrowed lightsaber.

“Look,” he says, eyes locking onto hers in a moment of intensity that narrows the room to just the two of them, the noise of the bar fading. “I don’t want to fight you, and I don’t want to lose my anonymity on this planet. We can destroy this bar if you like, but that will be on your head.”

Rey hesitates, just long enough for the both of them to know she won’t press, not when he’s pointed out the collateral damage that would result from a fight between them. Kylo resettles himself in his seat, swallowing nervously, and Rey narrows her eyes at the sweat she can just barely see gleaming at his hairline.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he repeats. Ignoring her gaze on the side of his face, Kylo lifts his hand to catch the bartender’s attention and asks for a glass of water. Surprisingly tame for this place. The water may be nowhere near his safest bet for cleanliness anyway.

“What’s wrong with you,” Rey asks again, less of a question this time and more a demand for an answer. He startles slightly, jarring the water in his hand, and takes a gulp of it before answering her, draining half the glass.

“Medical issues,” he bites out.

“What, still healing from the last time I saw you?” Rey can’t resist the urge to taunt him, even with their strange almost-truce.

“Something like that.” He mumbles, none of the precise speaking and overly formal vocabulary Rey recalls from their first encounter. It raises goosebumps on her skin, this odd difference, mingling with the pull in her gut and the rumble in her chest and leaving her floundering for responses to him. What is so different? What is it about him that is like grating metal, making her teeth clench involuntarily? And why in the galaxy are her instincts telling her she ought to get closer to find out?

“Why are you here?” Rey goes on, embracing the role reversal and taking her chance to be the one questioning him. She doesn’t know why, but it feels like he knows she has the upper hand here. Like Rey is the one in charge. “The First Order has the best of everything, I can’t imagine you’re on retreat for the healthful atmosphere here.”

Given the planet they’re on, a tiny backwater filled with markets and bars and pay-by-the-hour hotels, Rey knows she has a point. She’s here because it’s new and therefore interesting, and because the mixed bag of people means no one will turn their heads at a new face. People pass through here every day.

“Anonymity.” Kylo knocks back the rest of his water and gestures for another. “Like I said.”

Rey can’t challenge a motive that matches hers, but she’s not particularly happy about accepting it. She gets a drink of her own to buy time while she tries to come up with something rational to accuse him of. It doesn’t occur to her until she’s drinking - water, so as not to sacrifice her advantage over him - that Rey is still instinctively keeping him here.

Her hand shakes as she sets down her glass, eyes wide. She’s felt this before, only once or twice in her life, but the signs of a starting rut seem obvious in hindsight, and Rey bites her cheek when she puts it together with the shine of sweat on Kylo’s upper lip and the way her gut twists and roils with aggressive, possessive instinct at the sight of his head ducked like a submission.

“Oh, stars, you’re in heat.” It’s not a question. Rey knows with a certainty that says it’s already too late to scramble out of the building and away from the outpouring of hormones from Kylo. She’s going into rut whether or not he’s here, and since he is, Kylo Ren seems a convenient place to lay her annoyance and blame. “That’s why you’re out in the middle of nowhere. You’re hiding.”

“Yes,” he hisses from between clenched teeth. His glower still seems too dark and avoidant and the next part of the equation clicks over in Rey’s head. If he’s in heat, then the great and terrible Kylo Ren is an omega. The nastier sort would call him all sorts of things for it, and Rey’s tempted to as well, just to punish him for all of his sins, but that’s an ugly thought. She knows better and Luke is encouraging her to _be_ better, and she won’t let pettiness and superiority eat away at her for a fleeting moment of vindictive namecalling. From the way he’s hunched over his glass, braced like he expects a blow, he’s heard it all before anyway.

“Well, thanks for that,” she says, huffing instead and determinedly pressing away from both her baser impulses and the bar. “Have fun with yourself, I’ve got to go find a hotel myself now, with you wafting hormones all over the place. You should be inside if you’re this far gone.”

“I wasn’t,” he says instantly, turning in his seat as she steps back. “You’re - You shouldn’t be affected yet, I have hours still.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Rey digs a few credits out of her bag, dropping them on the bartop, and has almost walked away when long, pale, hesitant fingers wrap around her wrist with the slightest pressure. He’s not wearing gloves, she thinks distantly.

“You shouldn’t be affected,” Kylo repeats himself, a thoughtful frown on his face. It tugs oddly at the puckered skin of his scar and Rey’s stomach flips backwards up somewhere near her lungs, pressing the air out of them. _Mine_ beats in her mind again, a mantra she doesn’t want to acknowledge the implications of. “If you’re that sensitive, we’re -”

“No,” Rey cuts him off decisively. “We’re not.”

“We are,” he presses, letting her wrist go easily when she tugs away, the hunger on his face much harder to walk away from, damn him. “You know that means we’re compatible.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she snaps. “I’m done. We’re done. If you follow me, I will stop you, civilians or not.” Rey turns on her heel and only gets two steps away before he speaks again, halting her progress.

“ _Please._ ”

There’s so much desperation, so much needy loneliness in that one word that Rey’s shoulders hike up nearly to her ears and she stops in her tracks. Her eyes close on an inhaled breath - a bad idea - and all she can see is a wall of tally marks in durasteel.

“Don’t make me do this alone again.” Rey doesn’t move back toward him, but she doesn’t move forward either. “It’s always been just me. I’ve never…”

And oh, he is _good_. He’s either lying and knows exactly how tempting the idea of an untouched omega is to an alpha in rut, or he really has always gone through his heats alone and the awkwardness, the avoidant eyes and aimless want is all genuine. Rey would guess the latter, a thought that sends fire and ice down her spine to settle at her hips. The way he’d looked at her on Starkiller Base - awed and confused, but determined - matches his voice now exactly. She frankly doesn’t think he’s a good enough actor to fake it. All that time spent hidden behind a mask has left him terrible at hiding in plain sight.

“Convince me,” Rey says before she can stop her mouth from opening, and she’s immediately horrified with herself. But Kylo’s wide-eyed, earnest face when she spins to face him makes her repeat herself. “Convince me that you deserve not to be left here to sort yourself out.”

“I - ” He swallows, and Rey’s eyes track the movement of his adam’s apple. “I’ll do anything you want.”

“Of course you would say that,” Rey says flippantly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s true. I can’t trust you.”

He visibly debates with himself for a moment, eyes darting around the room, and Rey notes that he can look so very uncertain and small for such a large man. She barely comes up past his chin standing, but with his teeth digging into his bottom lip and one knee jittering restlessly, Rey’s instincts scream for her to soothe and protect him, show him where his place is and keep him there. She ignores it, breathing evenly, until Kylo seems to come to a decision and spills onto his knees, right there in public, setting off a rustling of commentary from the nearest patrons.

“Please.” Rey doesn’t step back, looking down at the top of his head, at her waist level and still covered by his cloak. “Anything you want, I swear.”

“Swear it on something important to you,” Rey demands, the heady power of seeing him kneeling for her, near begging, making her giddy, clouding her judgement enough that she’s even considering accepting him.

“On my grandfather’s grave,” he says. “Such as it is.”

“Endor.” His head snaps up in surprise. “Luke has told me so much about you, Ben.” He flinches at the name, but doesn’t correct her or stand. Rey’s instincts and better judgment and hormones cloud together in a miasma of indecision while he remains on the floor at her feet. Kylo watches her careful, his tongue swiping over his lower lip in a nervous gesture, and Rey vividly imagines that tongue, those lips, between her legs.

“Alright,” she says finally. “Come with me.”

-

She makes him pay for the hotel because he has the money to spare and he’s the one who wanted this in the first place. Rey keeps telling herself that - _he wanted this_ \- like it will cancel out the growing excitement in her chest. She can’t quite bring herself to articulate the thought even to herself, but her her bones and muscles know she wants him just as badly as he wants her, against all reason.

Sitting on the bed exactly like she told him to, cloak folded over the single chair in the room and stripped down to nondescript loose pants and shirt, Kylo watches her pace the small space at the foot of the bed. He wants this.

“Okay, rules,” Rey says finally, disgusted with herself for the mix of nerves bad and good roiling in her stomach. “This is a one time thing, we part ways after this, you don’t follow me, I don’t follow you. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Kylo says, nodding along easily. His agreeability grates. It’s terribly addictive to her baser instincts, making entire worlds of possibilities unravel before her.

“If either one of us decides to call it quits, there’s no bargaining, alright?” Rey goes on, more aggressive. “No questions asked, any time at all.”

“I’m not that desperate,” he grouses, which is an obvious lie, Rey can smell him by now and he’s a mess of needy hormones. It’s making her throb between her legs and she hasn’t made herself check if he’s hard yet, but Rey would confidently bet that he is. As soon as she looks - oh, when she looks, she’s done being even remotely coherent.

“You too,” Rey insists, gritting her teeth. “This isn’t…” She trails off, letting out an annoyed huff of breath. At him for being so easy, at herself for still talking, when they could be... “We’re not fighting and I have no desire to be in bed with someone who doesn’t want to be there.”

“I want to be here.”

Rey rolls her eyes at his flat statement, forcing herself to react to the facetious tone in his voice and not the blatant statement. She takes the two steps necessary to put herself standing between his casually spread legs and fists his hair, tipping his head back to look her in the eye. His mouth drops open gently and Rey can see his throat bob. She stamps down viciously on the desire to bite him there and drink in the noises she could pull from him. Her hormones scream in protest while Rey thanks the Maker for Luke’s training in self-restraint.

“I won’t let you turn this into something it isn’t,” she says clearly, eyes unwaveringly locked with his. “I am not here to punish you, I am not here to fight you. I am here because we’d both rather have someone to pass the time with than be alone. I doubt we’ll do anything you’d object too, but if it happens, you _will_ tell me.”

Rey can feel the Force ripple in and out of her words, pressing her command into him. It’s unnecessary, knowing he’s already agreed to do whatever it is Rey asks of him, but she doesn’t trust Kylo for all she wants him. Her nerves jangle the way they had in the snow on Starkiller, want and nausea and heady power coalescing together. Maybe she would have picked up on this thing between them back then if she hadn’t been so deeply sunk in grief and fear. No matter now. Kylo, open-mouthed and glassy eyed, definitely straining against his pants where Rey refuses to look, tries to nod, but catches on her grip in his hair and swallows shakily.

“Yes,” he says when he realizes she needs words, a spoken affirmation.

“Good.” Her grip loosens, though Rey can’t quite bring herself to step back and away from him. She would call it a mistake to have gotten so close under any other circumstances - his orbit is so difficult to break out of, even when she knows she ought not be there - but her intention is to get much closer tonight. The heat radiating from his body curls into her skin, soothing and exciting at once, and Rey bites her lip, smug to see him track the movement hungrily with his gaze. The way he so clearly wants her is intoxicatingly attractive, as is the power to bend him to her will. Such a large man, so strong, and yet Kylo Ren willing falls at her feet. Rey could get lost in that sensation, and the sweet temptation of it goes bitter in her mouth, the same taste of the dark side that had begged her to kill him in the snow, broken at her feet.

She has no intentions of killing him now, but Rey does intend to have him broken for her before she’s done, and she starts as these things should, with a kiss. Pressing her mouth to Kylo’s with no sort of gentleness, Rey is pleased when he accepts it beautifully, groaning against her mouth at the first touch and letting his lips drop open. Rey swipes her tongue over the plush softness of his lower lip, drinking in the way he shivers and takes it, his own tongue shyly meeting hers before she pushes further into his mouth. Kylo out and out _moans_ when Rey pauses to bite down, tugging slightly when she pulls back before releasing his lip.

Kylo tries to follow, stopped by her hand still twisted in his hair and groaning in frustration when he’s stopped short. He’s already nearly panting as Rey takes in the sight of him, sweeping her gaze down the length of his body without hesitation for the first time. His broad chest shifting with heavy breaths, stomach concaved as he bends to her hand pulling him down by his hair, and even as loose as his pants are, Rey can see in an instant he’s straining against them. Rey inhales once, sharply, and bids her better judgement farewell. His scent is everywhere, clouding her head, and all she can think about is his mouth, his hazy eyes, the shape of his cock through fabric, how badly she wants to see him fall apart.

“You’re going to be a good boy for me, aren’t you?” Rey asks, voice lowered in the small space between them. Kylo nods frantically as soon as she loosens her hold on his hair. It transforms into a shiver when she drags her nails over his scalp and Kylo’s hands shoot up to her hips, fingers hesitantly easing over her curves when they get there, like he’s waiting to be reprimanded. Maybe later, Rey will push him, see if she can make him _really_ beg and test that control he seems just on the edge of at all times.

For the moment, Rey wants to bask in the adoration he’s so bad at keeping off his face, and more importantly, she wants to see what he can do with that mouth.

“Take these off,” she orders, jutting her hips forward in his loose grasp, and humming a satisfied noise when Kylo’s overeager hands fumble at her fly. Her own hands diverge, one still buried loosely in his hair, the other diving under the collar of his shirt and down his back. The muscles there are well-defined, coiled tension and power under her fingertips and all under her direction. If she were a different sort of alpha, that power might be seen as a threat, but the omega hormones wafting off of him twist it so all she can think about is how delicious it is to have control over him.

He’s managed to open her pants and shove them down her hips gracelessly, so Rey steps out of them and unceremoniously pull him forward to press his face against her skin. Kylo lands with his forehead in the shallow divot between her hip and the curls between her legs, head tipped so his hot, heavy breath brushes her outer lips teasingly. Rey makes a disgruntled noise at the lack of initiative, and Kylo doesn’t need any more direction than that before he ducks to press his open mouth to her cunt.

“ _Oh_ , Maker,” Rey breathes, fingers clawing at him blindly. It’s immediately evident that he really has no experience by how directionless his actions are, but his enthusiasm and the way just the smell of him makes her blood throb more than makes up for it. Kylo’s mouth is as wonderfully soft and giving as she’d hoped, and gratifyingly loud besides. The noise of his tongue lapping at her is loud in the quiet room, only accompanied by Rey’s slight panting and Kylo moaning into her like her taste is enough to get him off all on its own. It very well might, but Rey fully intends to take his first orgasm for herself, so she takes control with a firm hand at the back of his head and tells him what to do.

“You’re going to make me come,” she tells him, a demand not a warning. “And you’re not going to come until you do. Your orgasms belong to me, is that understood?”

Kylo whimpers against her, tongue stilling for a moment where he’s been attempting to find the best way to get at her clit, fingers digging into the muscle of her bare ass. A wave of nearly violent instinct to _take_ washes over Rey and she knows instinctively Kylo is leaking all over himself in his pants.

“Use your fingers,” Rey demands, hips rocking forward against his face to make him continue. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want anything from me.”

He obeys instantly, one hand dropping his grip on her ass and blindly sliding up her inner thigh to rest his fingertips at her entrance. The pointed tip of his tongue swirls around her clit a heartbeat before one finger slides inside her. She’s slick enough he meets no resistance, longest finger easing inside her as far as it will go.

“Do this,” Rey says, curling her own fingers against the side of his neck in a come hither motion and Kylo follows her instruction, grazing over the sensitive walls of her cunt. “ _Yes_. Good boy.”

Kylo shuffles forward on the bed at her comment, legs spreading further around where she stands in front of him. Rey gets out an order for him to use another finger, spreading her wide enough to be almost satisfying. Her mind slides between his mouth open between her legs and the spread of his own thighs. If she’d been prepared for something like this, Rey would have liked to fuck him every which way, and she’s sure Kylo would take whatever she gave him any way she gave it. Rey has never done it herself, but she knows male omegas will sometimes have female alphas fuck them like men, and she has to admit to a flicker of curious desire to try it. She mourns the fact she won’t get to put him on his hands and knees and carefully does not let herself think about _maybe another time_.

Instead, Rey’s world narrows to the third finger Kylo presses into her and the pattern he’s found of flicking his tongue over her clit, lapping at the place her skin give way to his fingers inside her, sucking lightly and humming in turns before returning his attention to her swollen clit. He’s a fast learner, Rey thinks with fuzzy pride. A good omega pleasing his alpha and he’s earned her benevolence.

Her own hormones must spike at the thought because Kylo whines and nuzzles his face further between her legs, mouth working desperately along with the curl and drag of his fingers. Rey comes in short order, rocking forward into his touch and sighing in bone-deep satisfaction as her orgasm washes over her. Kylo slips off the bed when it happens, head tipped so far backward it must hurt, but paying it no mind as he drinks her in.

Rey rides out the aftershocks with her hand clenched tightly in his wrecked hair, eyes wide open and staring at the dirty ceiling above her. It passes and Rey steps back, releasing him and shuddering slightly as his fingers slip out of her. Kylo looks wrecked already, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, her arousal smeared across his mouth and chin, chest heaving and a clear wet spot at the front of his pants where they’re tented across his hips. She hasn’t even touched him yet, Rey thinks with a curl of selfish pleasure.

But she will. Oh, she will, her alpha instincts kicking in hard with her omega splayed at her feet, face open for her approval and command. Kylo’s breath rattles out of him when Rey plants a kiss above his eyebrow, just below his sweaty hairline. He needs to be naked _now_ so she can reward him, show him how good he is, how _hers_ he is.

“Take off your clothes,” Rey tells him quietly, firmly. “I want to see you.”

Kylo moves to obey before she’s stepped fully out of the way, peeling his shirt off as he stands, like it could burn him. Rey hardly has time to take in the revealed skin before he moves on, hands going to the fly of his pants. Moving on instinct, Rey steps forward and puts her hands on his, stopping him in his tracks. There’s a mile of skin already available and she wants at least a moment to survey her claim.

Shoving him backward by the hips, Rey moves him to sit on the bed again, then tips him back further until his spine hits the blanket. All of Kylo’s breath rushes out of him when Rey ducks to press a kiss in the divot between his pectorals. There are other scars on him, but Rey ignores them, skipping straight from the center of his chest to the lowest point of the scar she left across his shoulder and down his bicep. Kylo breathes harshly as she follows the rough skin upward with her tongue, a high-pitched noise leaving him when she reaches the dip of his collarbone and bites down suddenly. She worries the skin between her teeth until the spread of her satisfied grin is too much to keep hold of him properly. The thin skin over his bone is gratifyingly red and pink, purpling in the center where he’ll have a bruise, and Rey can’t resist leaving a small, affectionate kiss there.

“Please.” The word leaves Kylo like it’s been pulled out of him, thin and wanting, and shudders down Rey’s spine to settle between her legs. She shifts her hand to rest between _his_ legs, putting pressure against his cock and smiling sweetly when Kylo does nothing to stop himself from rutting up against her palm. He’s wet as anything, leaking through his pants at both the front and back. She thinks fleetingly again of the few male omegas she’d seen on Jakku, legs spread for an alpha and wonders if he’d like her fingers there.

He’d like it any way she’ll give it to him, Rey thinks smugly, judging by his body language and how determined he is to be good for her. She hasn’t asked him to stay still, but he does anyway, letting Rey explore his body with one hand while the other rubs over his crotch, not nearly enough. The clench of his hands in the blanket at his sides has his knuckles white with effort.

“Impatient, are we?”

“ _Kriff_ ,” Kylo breathes. “Yes. Rey, _please_.”

Her name sets fire to her control, leaving ash in its wake. Rey hadn’t consciously known if he even _knew_ her name, but she certainly didn’t expect the sound of her name leaving his lips to affect her so strongly. With thoughts of staking her claim and making him moan and shout her name, Rey strips Kylo of his pants in seconds, taking his underwear along with them. The heavy scent of him increases tenfold as soon as she’s done it, and Rey demands he move back on the bed while removing the rest of her own clothes with hands gone unsteady in her haste.

Kylo obeys instantly, scooting backward until his large frame is mostly on the bed, just his ankles still dangling over the edge. Rey watches the muscles in his arms move, multitasking as she undoes the binding on her breasts. Sitting up on his elbows, Kylo takes in the sight of her, his gaze an almost physical caress. Rey doesn’t have time to be self-conscious in the slightest, not with how her blood is throbbing to have him, but she doesn’t have time to preen under his attention either. Maybe after they’ve taken the edge off. Heats never do fade all that quickly, and it can’t be that much shorter with a partner.

Rey wordlessly climbs over him, Kylo’s knees bending and rising behind her when Rey perches herself over his hips. Kneeling just slightly above him, Rey tests the feel of his cock in her hand, squeezing and sending Kylo flat on his back, head thrown backward and throat working. She doesn’t resist the urge to bite him there, leaving behind another bruise while her hand smoothes up his erection. He’s so wet it’s a frictionless glide, easier than breathing to jerk him off, her nails leaving thin red lines down his ribs with her free hand.

His hands go up at lightspeed, gripping her hips hard before sliding up to her waist. His touch is unfocused and hasty, hardly pausing on any one part of her body before hurriedly skating to the next. His wide palm cups her right breast and the rough drag takes all thought from her mind. His cock pulses in her hand, another trickle of precum leaking over her fingers, and Rey can’t wait anymore, no desire to tease and test him. Any longer and it’ll be torment for them both.

“Oh, _stars_ .” Whatever faults Kylo Ren has - and they are many - his dick is not one of them. He slides inside of her easily, moaning like a well-paid whore the entire time until Rey is satisfyingly full. _Mine_ , she thinks again, unbidden, clenching around his girth possessively. Kylo jacknifes up at that with a deep, choking gasp and a slur of garbled words that Rey can’t make out beyond a stunned, grateful tone. Rey digs her nails in around Kylo’s shoulders where she’s holding on for dear life and shoves backward until he’s flat on his back again.

“Stay,” she orders, slightly breathless. “Stay right there until I tell you otherwise.” Kylo doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t try to sit up either, only touching her with his hands on her hips. Rey covers them with her own and shows him how to help her lift up and fall back onto him, and he catches on quickly. A swell of pride blooms under her ribs, nudged aside by the feeling of his cock stretching her, the mess already between them proof of his arousal. Proof that she has him exactly where she wants him, helpless and obedient.

“You’re being so good,” Rey murmurs, leaned down to watch awed arousal crawl over his face. “Wish you were this good all the time,” she goes on, trailing her lips down his neck on the opposite side to his scar. “But this is just for me, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Kylo gasps, wide hands rocking her hips over him, his thick cock sliding home every time Rey drops back, making him twitch and moan. “All yours.”

“Perfect,” she says into his bruised, marked collarbones. Locking her hands in his messy hair on either side of his head, she drags Kylo’s gaze to meet hers, his dark eyes blown even darker with desperation. “Now fuck me like you mean it. I want your come.”

Kylo makes a pitiful, broken noise from deep in his chest and obeys, as he has all night. His hands lock on her hips, holding her in place so he can fuck up into her with abandon. Rey keeps her grip on his hair, rolling her hips to take him and panting encouragement in the overwarm space between their mouths. Sweat trails down from his brow and Rey follows it backward with her tongue, humming in pleasure at the taste of salt and musk, his effort to please her. It’s surely a selfish act on his part, the rational fragments of her mind distantly recognize, but his hormones and hers turn her thoughts to molasses. Kylo is exactly where he belongs, she knows with unshakeable certainty, beneath her, giving everything he has.

He’d make a lovely mate, strong and generous and so, _so_ obedient to his alpha. He’d give her good, strong children and - Rey stops the wild spinning of the baser instincts inside her. This is passing a difficult time together, nothing more. But it doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy it and watch her nemesis fall apart in her hands.

“Do you need me to tell you what to do?” Rey taunts when Kylo seems to plateau, straining but _not quite_ there, just the action of fucking her while she holds him down not quite enough. “Need me to tell you how to be good for me?”

The noise Kylo makes is helpless and wordless, a low groan as he drags her down fully onto his cock, grinding against her so the pressure falls just right against her clit. Rey gasps harshly, shoving herself up above him and circling her hips to chase the sensation. Her hand accidentally falls to press down on his throat and Kylo nearly sobs, his own hips bucking wildly so Rey has to use her core muscles keeping her balance astride him. He pulses and swells impossibly inside her, but he isn’t even knotting yet, Rey can tell and the instinctive knowledge makes her shiver. He’s going to _split_ her when he does.

But she’s going to have to come before that happens - he can’t pop a knot without her, and Rey doesn’t know how she knows, but there’s something telling her Kylo isn’t close enough yet. He should be boneless and sated when it’s over, a perfectly fucked out omega mindless with what she’s done to him. And he isn’t there yet. His orgasm would be good now, but not yet _great_ , so Rey pushes him.

Curling her fingers under his jaw and pressing ever so carefully against his windpipe, Rey leans down and licks over his panting mouth while her hips work. She consciously clenches around him, making herself tighter so it takes effort for him to slide in and out even with the wet mess he’s making of them both. Kylo whines harshly and Rey can feel his breath trying to escape under her small hand on his thick neck. His nails dig into the top of her ass, following her lead as Rey rides him hard, too fast for him to do much more than stay still and take it.

“Such a slut for me,” she pants, watching his cheeks and throat flush red. “You’re so fucking wet, Kylo. You’d better knot me after all this mess.”

He keens under her, writhes, and there it is. Rey can sense it more like sensing through the Force than like any physical sensation. He’s going to come, the telltale swelling at the base of his cock coming on within seconds of Rey’s instinctual knowledge.

“That’s it, baby,” Rey coos, babbling, saying anything that will get Kylo to come for her. She _needs_ it, he needs it, and she’ll say anything, do anything to get his come inside her. “Come on, just like that. Come for me, Kylo. Give it to me.”

And like the good, responsive omega he is, Kylo does. Rey’s hand leaves his throat the instant he comes, flying to her clit and tipping herself over that edge with hardly a touch. Her own noises are almost embarrassing, shocked-sounding little ‘ah’ sounds that punch out of her with every upward jerk of Kylo’s hips, and she moans long and unabashedly at the feeling of his cock swelling and locking inside her, keeping him where he belongs.

She almost misses Kylo’s orgasm, lost in her own, but she catches the tail end of it. He’s sitting up when Rey’s coherent enough to notice, face buried between her breasts and groaning as he clutches her around the waist, holding her to him while he fucks into her a few more times. He can’t pull out anymore, only roll his hips against hers, spreading the mess of his slick between them. They’re going to be filthy, Rey thinks with a distant sense of accomplishment. But that’s a problem to be dealt with after the pleasant fuzziness of post-orgasm leaves her.

-

Her rut lasts three days, shorter than usual, but not shockingly so. She leaves Kylo in the hotel room the whole time, naked as per her demands. It settles and soothes her need to protect that she can leave him in what passes for a home and fetch food and water. As well as other things. Rey isn’t bold enough to go looking for the specialized shops that might have something to fuck him - a strap-on, Kylo tells her, diligently not meeting her eyes and failing at hiding his body’s response to the idea - but she does purchase a length of sturdy rope that can easily be repurposed. Though Rey doubts she could keep a straight face trying to recycle that rope now that she’s seen it looped around Kylo's wrists and ankles.

He’d taken just as beautifully to more aggressive play as Rey could have possibly hoped. Kylo is gorgeous begging, and that is something Rey will never be able to unlearn. Breaking him was satisfying in a completely separate way to how satisfying it was to take care of him in the aftermath. The former excises some of the venom she still harbors against him, and lets her get to Ben, under the mess and tragedy that is Kylo Ren. Taking care of him afterward calms her in a way that feels like belonging, a need fulfilled in the soft, proud kisses she lays on the red raw indents left around his wrists where she’d tied him down.

The last morning, as Rey can feel her rut fading, she suspects Kylo’s heat has already passed, but she doesn’t bother stopping him when he rolls onto his stomach and digs his shoulders under her thighs. Laying back in bed, barely awake, Rey is languid in the remnants of her rut, playing with his hair more than pulling it while he kisses up the insides of her thighs. Kylo has improved by leaps and bounds when it comes to eating her out, and it only takes a handful of minutes before she’s rutting against his mouth.

“Oh, Ben,” Rey sighs when she’s close, catching his momentary pause and the flicker of annoyance on his face. Just like that, she knows it’s over. He hasn’t had any issues with whatever she’d like to call him for the past three days. Ren. Kylo. Ben. Any number of affectionate and derisive names that he’s accepted without batting an eye. Rey rides out this last orgasm knowing it will be the last, and pushes him away when she’s done.

She can see from the corner of her eye as she rolls out of bed that he’s hard, but the deal is done. His heat has passed and her rut is only a handful of euphoric hormones rapidly working their way out of her system. Kylo is no longer her responsibility, and it’s time to leave.

Rey dresses silently, slower than usual, and her intentions must carry in either her body language or the cool and unpleasant twist she can feel in the Force, because Kylo stands and dresses as well, covering himself for the first time in days. In the cracked, dirty mirror of the bathroom, Rey watches him shrug his shirt on, covering the constellations of bruises and bite marks she’s left all over his torso.They will all fade in a matter of days, but her eyes catch on the scar he’s kept. It’s on the wrong side, now that she thinks about it, but it follows the line of his shoulder where an alpha might leave a mate scar in a more archaic tradition.

Rey banishes the thought from her mind, shoving her large, shapeless poncho over her head and resigning herself to doing her best to forget the past three days ever happened. She winces bending to put on her boots and rolls her eyes. So much for forgetting. She’ll likely still be feeling him for as long as Kylo’s bruises take to fade. Rey will just have to perfect the art of hiding a flinch before Luke can ask her what’s wrong. Thankfully she hasn’t been gone for an unusually long time either, and if she can just school her face every time her cunt reminds her just what she’s done for the last thirty six hours (and with very little rest between, Maker), she might get away with it.

There is no sentimental parting, but they both pause before the door is opened, sizing each other up. Kylo Ren has lost some of the mystery that made him intimidating, now that Rey knows what he looks like on his knees, between her legs, pleading for her. But then, she can only imagine she’s lost some of what made her a formidable adversary as well.

“This -” He stops short, almost as if he’s choked on his speech, and Rey picks up where he left off.

“Doesn’t change anything?” she finishes, knowing somehow what he meant to say. He scowls, perhaps annoyed with her for saying what he couldn’t. It fades within a moment, replaced by a cousin of the confusion he’d worn on their first fight, softer and less desperate, more contemplative.

“Yes it does,” he says finally. He doesn’t pause to see if Rey has anything to say to that, just tugs the hood of his cloak over his head and walks out the door into the late morning. Kylo’s cloak isn’t quite black, Rey notes, just a dark brown that had appeared black in the darkness of the bar that first night. She hasn’t bothered looking at it since.

She stares vacantly until Kylo disappears into the small crowd that bustles about even at this hour, shaking her head to dispel her own ridiculousness. Of course it changed things, but nothing important. She’s still Rey, Luke Skywalker’s apprentice and the last hope for the Resistance and the Jedi. And he’s still Kylo Ren. He isn’t Ben. He _isn’t_.


End file.
